


Whiskey Tears

by Candyfloss_And_Fairymoss



Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Heartbreak, One-Sided Attraction, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 07:10:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14159493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candyfloss_And_Fairymoss/pseuds/Candyfloss_And_Fairymoss





	Whiskey Tears

Tears and whiskey.

This isn't how he planned to spend this night. A glass of whiskey, an ice cube or two, and some slow jazzy tunes he knows...

He can feel it in his bones.

The low strum of a bass, the light honeyed voice of a singer with a heart as broken as his, vocalists joining in on the chorus, the slight crackle of the record as the needle runs.

At first, he sips and just breathes, pushing the ice with his fingers lazily, just letting it build.

Its hot like fire, and yet, its core is so disgustingly heavy and cold, he bites his lip as it rises to the center of his chest and blooms like some dark orchid.

He goes to sigh and it come out a sob.

Another follows it, and he bites his knuckle, tasting whiskey and the salt of a fallen tear. It hurts, burns, throbs and thrashes its way down his arms and makes his fingertips tingle.

He never thought heartbreak could do that. Hurt so bad he can feel it.

The record starts to skip, hitting a scratch he forgot was there, making the singer croon out one low lonely note over and over and over.

Sounding like the call of someone in anguish.

The dam breaks and he lets out a noise so low and sad he thinks for a moment the record has caught in a new place. That couldn't possibly be his voice catching like that, but the burn in his throat lets him know it is him.

" _I like you.", he practically has to pry the words from his throat with a crowbar, "It started when.... when we started workin' here... I tried to stop but I just.. Like you. A lot."_

_Its a comment thrown out in their usual night duties of sorting pokerchips and cards while having a glass of bourbon between them. He stares down at the chips as he sorts them, waiting, hoping, for something. Anything._

_"Cuphead."_

_His voice has a quality to it that makes him brighten, but the tone hes using makes his stomach sink down in his body._

_".... I don't feel the same way."_

_Silence._

_"...I'm s-"_

_"Don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong, just don't make this awkward.", he looks up in time to catch that Dice doesn't look bothered or angry, slipping cards into their respective decks as if Cuphead has just told him it was raining outside instead of confessing love._

_He stays silent, flicking the last of the chips into their stacks on their little wheel and standing, downing the bourbon in the process._

_Dice watches him stand, no real emotion on his face, nothing hinting at his thoughts. He wants to say something, defend himself? But theres nothing to defend, nothing to refute, nothing to chase after now that wouldn't make him look foolish or desperate._

_Besides, he can feel that nasty oily feeling rising in his gut, and the sting of tears coming._

_"I... I just."_

_"Its not your fault I don't like you like that, I just don't. I don't think I like anyone like that so If it helps its not just you."_

_It doesnt help. Not really. He bites back something that stings._

_"... Okay."_

_"... I didn't make this any better, did I? Im sorry. I just. I can't. Im sure you will fin-"_

_Nope. Not that. Don't say that. Cup turns on his heels and gives a quick goodnight that he knows sounds waterlogged and he hates it. His steps get messy and loud as he tries to stop himself from storming off, he isn't mad... yet... just upset._

And its getting worse.

The whiskey has gone from being poured into a glass to being sipped straight from the bottle, as the songs get sadder and sadder and he cries a little harder. Hes possibly ruined a friendship that was just fine, hes possibly ruined his job and now made his work unbearable, hell, hes possibly ruined everything hes tried to set up in this hell that he now has to call home and work and leisure.

Another sip of whiskey. It burns.

Mugman comes in not too long after, taking the bottle and flipping his limp soggy body into bed.

"... He said no. Didn't he?"

He doesn't answer, just burrows into the covers and hiccups. He feels Mug wrap him in a hug, tight and forgiving.

"Its okay."

"Im an idiot. I shouldn't have said anything."

"No. You did the right thing. If you hadn't said anything you'd just be stewin' "

He sobs, hating how they wrack his body, hating how his shoulders shake and his chest aches with the somehow very physical pain of heartbreak.

He wants to stop, but can't. Mug brings him tissues, a tincture for headaches, and some water after a time, and he tries to wash the metallic taste of a breakdown away.

"Feel better?"

 _No_.

"Anything I can do?"

 _No_.

".. You wake me up if you need anything. I mean it."

 _Yes_.

Mug leaves, after another tight hug, and Cup lies down and tries to forget just how bad this feels, how bad it all aches.

How bad he wishes it had gone another way. How bad he wishes he hadn't said anything. Just being his friend would have been enough... wouldn't it?

He was sure he wouldn't want to now. Too awkward, too strange, too close.

He falls asleep with tears on his cheek and sobs in his throat, the taste of whiskey and bitter medicine on his tongue.

 


End file.
